MATCHMAKER (A Billionaire Bad Boy Romance) (18 page)

They didn’t speak on the limo ride back to the apartment building. He sagged into her on the elevator ride, and at the top, he told her, “I can’t imagine facing this without you. I’m sorry I took so long.”

It didn’t seem right to chide him with a snappy comeback, so she hugged him. Brad Chadwell waited with the puppy, and the little dog pranced over to greet them. Sterling’s face spread into a huge grin, and he scooped the dog up.

“What’s your name?” he asked it. It wagged its tail and squirmed in his arms. “How’d you pick him, again?”

“There was a litter at the shelter. Five of them. I went in and played with them, and I just kinda liked this one the best. He was crazy, kept running around and playing.” She had the bite marks from puppy teeth on her hands. “He chose me.”

Sterling flipped the puppy over, and it struggled to get free. “He’s gonna be a handful.”

“What is his name?”

“I want to say Ben, but it’s way too soon. I think he looks like a Leo.”

It certainly wasn’t a name Cherise would have come up with. Sterling played with him a bit, then got the dog—Leo—to settle down in his lap.

“Cher, would you like to watch
Predator
with me?”

She laughed, remembering the earlier conversation when she realized he was an actual human. “I’d love to.” The thought of work nagged at her. She had to work at four. “I can only stay for a few hours.”

Sterling picked up what she was putting down. “Call in sick. Better, call in dead.”

“I can’t.”

“For tonight, call in. We’re both wiped. I’ve missed you so much.”

She knew Jenn, her boss, would be a huge bitch, but she was exhausted. The apartment didn’t offer much privacy, but she headed upstairs to the loft to make the call. Her excuse of ‘my boyfriend’s father died last night and we were at the hospital’ didn’t hold as much water with low-end food service jobs.

“If you don’t find someone to cover your shift, I’m going to have to let you go,” Jenn said.

He did tell her to call in dead. She’d saved up some money and could afford to tell this woman to stick her low-paying job where the sun didn’t shine. “Then I think you’ll have to. I need to be with family and friends tonight.”

“I’m disappointed in you, Cherise.”

“Honestly? I’m disappointed in your corporate culture that doesn’t trust an employee to have actual human emotions and feelings.”

Cherise could virtually hear Jenn’s eyes rolling through the phone. “You can get your final check next Friday. Is there anything else?”

“No, ma’am.” Like any woman in her thirties, Jenn hated being called ma’am.

Cherise heard a little sound and noticed Leo had navigated the stairs and followed her up. He sat on the white carpet, a squat little lump. When she made eye contact with him, his tail tapped on the floor and his ears went back in a grin.

“You’re trouble, buddy.” She carried him back downstairs. “So I called in dead and am now unemployed.”

“Professional houseguest.”

“The career I’ve been training for all my life. I’m doing poorly because I got that apartment…”

“Practice, my dear. This means you have time for Predators one and two.”

“I suppose it does. Unless I fall asleep.”

“Which is totally okay. I’ll fill you in on whatever you miss.”

She’d seen them so many times she didn’t need him to, but she agreed. He pulled the movie up on the giant TV, and they settled in on the couch, a soft blanket draped over them.
Predator
started, depicting the lush green jungles of South America.

Sterling didn’t let it get far before he spoke. “So this is the least romantic time and place ever.” Cherise looked around the sleek white apartment and privately disagreed. As someone still not entirely used to this, the accommodations were pretty romantic.

He pulled a ring box out of his pocket. “Leo and I want to know if you will marry me. It’ll certainly solve your Starbucks problem.”

Cherise gaped at him. “Of course I will, but… Is that the ring you bought for Jenna?”

He laughed. “No. I mean, yes. But I never bought a ring for Jenna. Once I started looking at it, I realized it’s totally not her at all. It’s you. I never showed it to her, never even asked her.” He paused. “This is pretty fucked up, huh?”

“We’re pretty fucked up.”

He opened the box, and she looked at the ring. He was right, it was
not
a ring Jenna would have liked. The main stone was a sapphire, not a diamond. Wispy vines of precious metal—platinum or white gold, she couldn’t tell which, entwined toward lustrous marquise diamond buds in a nature-inspired trellis ring.

“It is for me,” she said. She loved it.

“It
is
for you.”

“Thank you. And yes.” She hadn’t envisioned this step, not so soon, but she loved him. She knew she did. And she’d put up with him for so long now, she knew his ins and outs, his quirks and his temper.

He slid it on her finger and kissed the top of her head. “You deserve something better. More romantic. Fanfare. A parade. At least my eating you out or something.”

She laughed at him. “I don’t want fanfare. This is perfect.” For the first time in she didn’t know how long, she didn’t actively want to screw him. Well, she did, and she sure hoped she would later, but right now, she loved being snuggled on the couch with the man. Loving him as a whole person. “I’ll take a rain check on the second part. Don’t worry, I’ll collect soon.”

Sterling leaned over and kissed her. It felt different. Not stolen, not sinful. It felt real, warm, and wonderful.

“I’m such an idiot for making this take so long. I wish Ben could have seen it.” Sterling paused, chewing on his words. “It’s not about the money, it’s the creative control piece. I’ve been planning for this for decades. I mean, I’m still on the board, so it’ll be fine, and I’ll have my say. I just don’t want to see his hard work run into the ground.”

“Ben told me a secret when we were in Dominica. And you’ll see it for yourself as soon as you look at his will. He told me not to tell you, but I think he wouldn’t mind right now.”

“Oh?” He didn’t look entirely surprised.

“He never changed his will. He never wanted anyone but you to have control of Bachmann Entertainment Group. He said you’re the only one he trusted, but he wanted you to find happiness.”

Sterling nodded. “I can see him doing something like that. Kinda like how I was always going to pay for your PhD.”

She gaped at him. “You were?”

“Cherise, you rock, and you’re brilliant. I want you to have every opportunity life affords you. I love you. I’ve loved you from the day I hired you, I just didn’t know it.”

“But you don’t love.”

He scoffed. “I’m fucking terrified to love. I’m terrified to open myself up to you.” On the TV, the characters discovered a skinned corpse, and Sterling laughed. He pointed at the TV. “Like that. That’s how I feel. I’m scared you’re going to leave, and then what will I be?”

“Strong. Rich. Handsome. And wiser for having loved and lost.”

“Wait, isn’t this where you say you’re never leaving?”

“I’m probably never leaving. I never want to leave. But if I did, you’d be okay. You and Leo.” He looked worried, and she leaned over and kissed him. “It’s gonna take an awful lot to get rid of me.”

“You did stay with that Ricky asshole long enough.”

“Hey now.” She swatted at him, and he caught her wrist. The tension ignited a fire deep in her. She locked her gaze on Sterling’s grey-blue eyes, and he grinned a wicked grin. They both knew how the movie turned out. She supposed they also both knew how it turned out when Sterling ripped her pants off, but it was much more exciting to explore.

*** THE END ***

BONUS NOVEL INCLUDED!

HEAL ME

(A Billionaire Bad Boy Romance)

By

Bella Grant

Bill

I’d been sitting in this damn office for an hour. I thought therapists were supposed to be, you know, considerate of feelings and all that shit. Why had I been waiting so long, then, huh? I was so bored that I was reading a magazine article. Some dumb-fuck was talking about how his money got him everything he ever dreamed of, and
Now you can, too! For just ninety-nine million dollars!

Saying you got everything you wanted in life was a load of shit. I would know, because I have money. Lots of it. I’ll let you in on a secret about wealth: when you have money, you’re gonna spend it just because you can. I’ve spent my fair share of days overseas, lounging in the nude with two hookers I had hired the night before. I’ve snorted cocaine off hookers, yes. I once traveled on a yacht, and I paid for it out-of-pocket just because I could. I’ve done so many things that are cliché, things normal people would only dream of, if they even knew those things existed. But.
But
. Let me tell you one thing I never got in life.

I’ve never had a woman who gave a shit about me. Not even my mother, though she was the one who finally convinced me to be here. Yeah, they like my money—and, hell, I’d even say that I’m easy on the eyes. I stand about five-foot-nine, not terribly short but certainly not tall. My hair is salt and pepper. My eyes, bright green, distract people from the gray in my hair. I like to think of myself as a ‘refined gentleman,’ which basically means I’m pretty old. Over forty-five.

That’s why you couldn’t stop him from grabbing you by the neck,
I thought.
Nonsense. He was a coward. Came at you from behind, Bill. What could you really do but give in?
I thought to myself, accustomed to my crazy internal dialogue.

“Being robbed can impact ya more than ya think,” my mom had said. “I read it in this self-help book.” Her voice was rattling and weak. She was smoking too much again. “Ya gotta see someone, Billy,” she had urged.

I told myself that her begging voice had convinced me to seek help. But truly, I knew when to throw in the towel. During any business negotiations, the point at which I’d lost and they’d won was always clear to me. Sadly, as much as I fucking hated it, I had lost. That night had robbed me of more than just my money. It robbed me of a piece of my manhood that I couldn’t seem to grab back. Every damn business deal since then had been a crock of shit. I lost my cool because I lost my confidence.

And the nightmares. Those nightmares. I pictured it every night: walking back to my hotel from the financial district. I’d rented a room to get away from my fiancée—whom I was not cheating on, as much as she accused me of it. The mugger had grabbed me by the throat from behind. He was tall and bigger than me, and I am no shrimp. I’ve been muscular my entire life, but especially so since I’d been hitting the gym a lot recently. I wanted to avoid the weight gain that hits most people in their forties.

He had squeezed. “Here’s the deal. I have a gun, and you have a wallet. You go to the ATM, and the gun won’t go off. You fuck with me, and you’ll be poor
and
dead. Hear that, you son of a bitch?” he’d rasped into my ear.

Even through my fear, I had felt a spike of anger rush over me. Who the hell did this guy think he was? Didn’t he know ‘Billy the Billionaire,’ a self-made man from a lower-middle class family in Yonkers? Didn’t he know that I packed the punches in life, and people like him cleaned my damn shoes—for a very good price, of course, because I value labor. I respect hard work and the people who’ve earned their money. I had no respect for him, even in that moment.

But I had respect for my beating heart and my life. And, God, I admit it: I was scared shitless. I wanted to live. My life ran through my head, and all that jazz. The thought of not having it changed me in many ways. But this change was, by far, overshadowed by the knowledge that at any moment, another stranger could come out of the shadows and take it all away from me.

Back to the robbery, though. I’ve never seen so many people out on the street in my life. Yeah, it was nighttime, but it didn’t explain their sheer ignorance. None of them paid much attention to the situation. Some averted their eyes, and some stared. I had heard of the
bystander effect
in one of my undergraduate classes, but I never actually thought it existed. Unfortunately for me, I had to find out the hard way. It indeed existed, all the way to the ATM one block north.

He had put the gun to my head as I unloaded my money. When the machine wouldn’t dispense any more money—because there was no more—he was as confused as he was excited.

“That means you got more, don’t it?” he asked. I could tell from his voice that he must have been in his mid-twenties.

He lowered the gun as if in awe. I took this as my chance. As it turns out, the gun wasn’t loaded. It was all for show. Lucky for me, all he could do was use the gun to beat me over the head again and again. He turned me over, and by that point, I was nearly unconscious. He kept beating me until someone finally called the police.